


I Grabbed A Good One

by julienwrites



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Patrick Brewer Tea Addict, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24234328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites
Summary: David will always say yes to pizza, but he makes a small noise, looking down at him with squinted eyes and a judgemental look. “When you’re sick you needsoupand healthy things,” he reminds him as Patrick extracts himself from the hug.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 5
Kudos: 149





	I Grabbed A Good One

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoys a little soft sickfic. Lots of tea, Batman Returns, and cuddles. Send me prompts at Lickrustdavid on tumblr!

The sniffling has been happening over the course of the day, and while David doesn’t love it, the quiet noise serves as a reminder. Soon he’ll be getting Patrick home and in comfier clothing, putting him in bed where he can get warm and hopefully sleep off some of this winter head cold he’s been trying to fight. Patrick’s symptoms have been slowly progressing throughout the day, little coughs and coldish muffled sneezes he’s never heard from his fiance in the entirety of their relationship up until now. And while David hates to admit it, and wouldn’t _ever_ outloud, Patrick’s the cutest sick person he’s ever seen.

It makes sense, he’s polite and neat as a person in general, so him coming down with a cold just means a folded tissue in his pocket to sneeze into, hand sanitizer both up at the counter and in the back, soft ‘excuse me’s’ and taking himself to the bathroom to blow his nose. 

Looking up from where he’s switching moisturizer and lotion, David watches as Patrick takes a sip of his second cup of tea today, which makes him think that at the rate he’s going they’ll be needing more tea for the apartment by tomorrow. When the sniffling starts again, David moves over to him and wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing his hair. Patrick twists to look at him over his shoulder, leaning in a little closer. 

“Almost closing time,” he says, looking at his watch that reads four thirty nine. David thinks to text Stevie and ask if she can grab a few things for Patrick so he doesn’t have to keep him from being at home. He’s already looking more tired than he was two hours ago, and his sniffles have been increasing. 

“Mmm, I’m ready to go home and maybe order pizza?”

David will always say yes to pizza, but he makes a small noise, looking down at him with squinted eyes and a judgemental look. “When you’re sick you need _soup_ and healthy things,” he reminds him as Patrick extracts himself from the hug. Not getting a response, David’s about to tell him he’ll order a pizza for himself, but then his fiance is moving toward the counter, grabbing the neatly folded tissue from his pocket, pressing it close to his nose and mouth. He sneezes a couple times and David's reminded of a puppy. 

‘Bless you,” David walks over, letting Patrick toss his tissue and rub in the hand sanitizer he’s pumped out before putting his hands on his shoulders. “I’m serious, you need soup, your poor throat’s already sore. Soup will feel good.”

“I’m not even _that_ sick, it’s a tiny cold David. And…and how do you know my throat’s sore,” Patrick asks, rubbing at his eyes. David heart flutters a little, seeing the man he loves so very much looking this disheveled. 

“Every time you take a drink of something for the first time in a while, your face scrunches up like it hurts.” The answer is simple and David can’t help the shrug that happens after. He adjusts his Valentino sweater a little, suddenly embarrassed that he’s noticed so much about Patrick being under the weather and he’s not even been sick that long. Patrick’s looking at him with that soft, fond smile he has, the one that makes David feel like he’s the only one in the world. 

“Didn’t realize I was doing that,” Patrick thinks for a moment, swallowing. “Okay, yeah, I guess my throat’s a little sore. But how about we compromise? I’ll have soup if you let me have a piece of pizza too.” This is exactly why he’s the numbers guy- he can negotiate. 

“You drive a hard bargain Mr.Brewer, but I suppose I can do that,” David says, playing up a haughty tone in his voice. 

\+ + +

“Go shower and I’ll order the pizza,” David suggests as they step inside the small but cozy apartment, taking his jacket off and hanging it up in the tiny closet by the door. Coughing into the crook of his arm, Patrick does as he’s told, slipping his shoes off and setting his bag down before heading into their small bathroom. When David hears the water running, he orders the pizza from his phone and then walks to the bed that’s up against the wall. Pulling back the blankets and duvet cover, he takes off a few decorative pillows and makes sure it’s cozy and inviting. 

Shifting to his right, David goes to the bottom drawer of the large wooden dresser, pulling out Patrick’s favorite pair of sweatpants, the dark blue ones that David bought him last year for Christmas. On a whim, instead of just getting one of his fiance’s undershirts, he instead pulls out a black t-shirt that says ‘Brewer’ on the back with a number thirty nine below it. It’s worn, almost to the point it has holes, and he knows it’s comfortable from personal experience. 

As David lays the clothing out and then goes to find some soup, he hears a couple of soft but more desperate sneezes come from the bathroom, as well as a few coughs when the water shuts off. Minutes later the door is opened and Patrick comes out with a towel around his waist. 

“Thank you for getting my clothes,” he shoots over to David, voice tired but grateful. 

“Anything for you. Pizza is on it’s way and I’m heating up the soup. How’re you feeling? Not going to die on me are you?” 

In the comfort of their place, Patrick tends to be a little more open and comfortable with things, willing to be a little more vulnerable. David gets it, he’s kind of the same, in some aspects at least. He hears footsteps and turns to see his fiance in the clothing, looking somehow rumpled even having just come out of the shower.

“Stuffy…tired. Throat hurts a little, but definitely no death, at least for now,” Patrick smiles, grabbing his zip up hoodie off the back of the sofa and pulling it on. David stirs the soup slowly so it doesn’t coagulate at the bottom of the pot, then turns to give a smile and pull his hood up. Patrick keeps it that way and moves himself to bed, crawling into the sheets before letting out a sleepy sigh. 

“I’ll see if Stevie can bring over some medicine, sounds like it might help,” David thinks out loud, wondering how well Patrick will react to it compared to the pain medication from his wisdom teeth that had made him loopy for hours. He looks over, just to admire him, and sees his eyes are already shut, mouth open a little due to congestion. 

\+ + +

David’s looking at photos of the venue they’ve been thinking about on his laptop, scrolling his pad downward carefully so he doesn’t jostle his arm that Patrick’s half awake on. His fiancé is curled up next to him, warm and sated from his soup, his head resting on David’s shoulder and arm. He looks so tired and genuinely sick now, and David has to stop himself from holding him and never letting go. 

“Find anything good?” Patrick asks, eyes shut, not looking at the screen. He’s definitely more congested now, his n’s much more nasally, and David almost wants to pull an Alexis and boop his nose. 

“Mm, I think we should see that one that’s a half hour away, toward the vineyard?” David looks at the screen again, trying to find the amenities. Patrick seems to accept it, either that or he’s fallen asleep, but then a minute later his body is tensing and he picks his head up, turning away. 

Soft sneezes are crushed into the crook of his arm, making Patrick shiver a little, and David frowns setting his laptop next to him.

“ _Bless_ you. How about we go lay down, hm? You’ll be warmer. We can put on a movie, any one you want.” As soon as the words leave his mouth David regrets them. He loves Patrick, but there are some movies they just don’t agree on. 

“Even Batman Returns?” Patrick asks, staring at him with owlish eyes. 

“…yes. But only because you’re sick and miserable and I love you,” David huffs, kissing Patrick’s head. 

They’re in bed ten minutes later with the laptop playing the first scene of Batman Returns. When David looks down, Patrick’s already out like a light, cuddled into his side. If David happens to watch the whole movie and not hate it? Patrick never has to know. 

++++

David wakes up at four am. He keeps his eyes shut like he tries to always do, not wanting to give his body the satisfaction of winning. He decides when he wakes up. But then David hears quiet shuffling and those same soft coldish coughs and sniffles from earlier. His eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, realizing there’s a faint glow seeping in from the dark. After a selfish second of ‘please let me just fall asleep again’; a second that his younger self would have completely taken advantage of, his worry wins out one hundred times over and he opens his eyes. 

The light to the kitchen is on, illuminating the front half of the small apartment, Patrick standing there with his favorite glazed blue mug, water on the stove to boil. Realizing all at once what’s happening, David stands and moves toward his fiancé, feeling drawn like a magnet, needing to be with him and help. 

Patrick’s coughing into his arm when David stops near him and makes eye contact. Guilt flashes in his brown eyes and when he finally swallows and clears his throat, he starts talking, voice raspy and entirely too congested. 

“I’mb sorry I wogke you up…” 

David cringes, but then he’s enveloping Patrick into his arms, kissing his forehead that’s feels just slightly over warm, like he’d been twenty blankets. “You didn’t know I wake up every morning at four am? I usually go to the gym and lift weights,” he teases softly, kissing his head again. “How about I finish this for you and you go sit on the couch.” 

It’s not a question really, more of a statement, so Patrick nods and walks over to the couch, snagging a few tissues from the wood block David calls a side table on the way. Preparing the tea, he hears more quiet coughs that make his heart stutter, wishing he could make him feel better. It's not fair that Patrick is the one who has to suffer through this, and suddenly David wishes it was himself who was sick. Well that's a new development. 

Walking over, mug steaming hot, he sets it down on the table instead of handing it to Patrick, who’s looking at him like he’s been betrayed, watching him ignore the outstretched hand to take it. 

David moves a hand through Patrick’s short, cropped hair. “Should I start your will?” He jokes quietly. “I’m just letting the tea cool. As my mother once told me, don’t look like such a disgruntled pelican.” 

Patrick smiles at that, leaning his face against David’s shoulder. 

“Tha’gks for takig care of me,” Patrick whispers a few minutes later, sipping on his tea. He’s got one hand holding it, the other wrapped around the mug simply for the warmth it’s exuding. David gives a sleepy smile, shaking his head. 

“Don’t need to thank me. Unless I catch this, in which, I expect _groveling_ and _lots_ of soup, and tea, too,” he keeps it light and wraps an arm around Patrick, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb. 

“That sou’ds fair,” Patrick leans away to cough, feeling warmth bloom in his chest when David wraps his own hands around the mug too, making sure none of it sloshes around. 

“Oh, and _just_ so we’re clear. The store is at least opening late today, if not closed. I’ve earned it. It’s four am,” David’s tone is playfully but Patrick knows he’s serious, and for once he doesn’t mind the store being closed. It might be because of how stuffy and tired he is, or it might be from the warmth and comfort David’s giving. Maybe it’s both. But he thinks he’d rather have one day of the store shut down if it means having the rest of the day look like this, both of them cuddled up and David making him tea. 

“Love you,” Patrick replies, and David knows that’s a yes. 

“Love you too. Finish your tea so we can get back in bed.” 

Minutes later, as they’re both crawling back in, Patrick freezes. “…Batman Returns,” he frowns, realizing he fell asleep. David rolls his eyes and kisses his forehead, pulling him close to snuggle up with him. 

“Michelle Pfeffir wasn’t even that good. Her costume was tacky. And Danny Devito needed _waaaay_ better lines,” David huffs, still not understanding the huge following. 

“So you watched it then?” David can feel Patrick’s smile, and shit, he walked into this one. 

“Go to sleep, sick fiancé. You’re having a fever dream.” 


End file.
